well, i went to lunch with Lonnie, which was a good break. it was unexpected, and i enjoyed the Deyor and enjoyed some flirt time with the waitress, likely all on my part. but it was good, had an interesting conversation with a gentleman who apparently works there and is not a Trump fan at all (always refreshing in a white guy, i have to admit). but while i was at lunch, the bad break came.
my dad, who is currently upstairs having dinner with my mom for their 52nd wedding anniversary (comfort and remembrance, that's going to be the title of this entry, i think), cannot let anything go. that is a fact. when he gets his mind on something, he can't find a way to let it go until it either works out the way he wants it to, or its as bad as it can possibly get. so he calls me. he doesn't know i'm at lunch, but he calls me anyway. and he says 'i just want to say something to you', which is code for 'i know you're not going to want to hear what i have to say, as you've been making that clear in a number of ways lately, but i won't feel like myself unless i say it anyway'. so i tell him go ahead.
now, my father is under the impression than i'm blowing off work. nothing could be further from the truth. the truth is, i took a leave of absence for a week, and i'm scheduled to go back to work on Friday. the truth is also, it's MY BUSINESS. if i decided to quit, which i'm going to do, that's my business. if i decided to cut my LOA short and go to work tomorrow, that's MY business. it has nothing to do with him. but since he is Robert F Thomas, he can't believe that anyone would act out of character for the way he believes they should act. and so, since i don't feel the need to explain my business to anyone in particular, he's hung up on his perspective. mind you, i'm trying to train him to just leave me alone. not like i don't want to be bothered, because i helped set up for their dinner, opened his table, fixed his table cloth and put on music for them to eat to. but i do believe, at almost 50 years old, i've left the orbit of having to explain my every action for someone else's comfort.
that being said, i listened to him tell me about how i should not just throw away the job, as i had said i am not concerned about the job. i interrupted him at that point and asked if i could ask him something, and he braced himself and said 'go ahead'. and i asked him was there ever going to come a time when i would be able to just do something, in my life, and not have to be questioned about it by him. and he said that's not what he was trying to do and i informed him that's ALL HE DOES. and i informed him that what i do with this job HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM, and he replied that he has his way of doing things and i have my way of doing things, and that's just the way it is, as if to say that we just don't see eye to eye. but the fact remained, it wasn't necessary to see eye to eye, as he didn't need to have his eye on my job situation to begin with. it is MY JOB, i am working on THE HOUSE THAT HIS NEPHEW AND HIS DAUGHTER LEFT FILTHY BECAUSE HE WANTS ME OUT OF HIS HOME SO HE CAN GET BACK TO FILLING THE SPACES I VACATE WITH HIS OBSESSIVE/COMPULSIVE PURCHASES. this is a fact. he wants me to somehow fix the house, take care of getting to work and somewhere along the way find time to look in on my mother and be available if he should need something. THAT is a fact, evidenced by him always finding a reason to call me when i'm at work. in other words, he wants me to live his younger life. and that pig ain't gonna fly, no matter how hard you throw it.
so he ended with one last attempt to tell me that a family friend/cousin was the one who vouched for me with the job, and that i should keep that in mind as me just blowing off the job might make it harder for her to help the next person. and i told him that it was still my problem and had nothing to do with him. and he said he just wanted me to think about it, and i told him i was not going to think about it, i was going to get back to my lunch. which i did. and i talked about it to Lonnie. and i'm talking about it now.
truth is, i'm tired. i'm cleaning someone else's filth, again. second time this year, first time was when i put my own fucking belongings on the street in front of my apartment. i'm grieving Rachel. i'm sick and tired of working at a place where either i'm hurting physically or my mind is reeling at the stupidity of the way things are done. i'm worried about my parents. i'm trying to fight gout, neuropathy and diabetes, and i'm trying to get back to feeling like writing or editing or singing, something toward my creativity, something toward growing Z-Phyles. i have to find furniture, i have to find a new bed, i have to get dishes and supplies and i have to gather my things from here and get them transported. i have to do all this shit. I have to do all this SHIT. I HAVE TO DO ALL THIS SHIT. no one else. i have some help, but no one can help me on the inside. and my father, who has been an EAP, who is supposed to have an understanding of the addict/alcoholic mental processes better than most people, is acting like i'm playing connect the dots, that i do this thing, and then i do the next thing.
i'm tired.
so, i don't have the patience i used to have. i don't have the mindset to be subtle right now. i can leave it alone, my plan was to write it out and give it to him so he would see where i am without feeling as if he's being confronted. but he wouldn't give it time. i'm not going to disrespect myself. nothing is worth that anymore.
fridge is cleaned out, stove is being cleaned off and cleaners are coming to displace me tomorrow. what can i say? thank you, Jehovah, for a very eventful day.
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